Charlotte
“Okay, you can look now.”
When I opened my eyes, I spun around, surprised at our location. Of all the places he could have taken me, Ike took me to the motel room I’d stayed in when we first met while he was in limbo.
Neither of us spoke as he let me absorb our surroundings. I couldn’t help but smile despite the twinge of sadness I felt as I ran my hand over the outdated worn comforter. The room was riddled with some of the best and worst memories of my life. I’d spent my nights here with Ike, laughing and plotting, then he’d watch me while I slept. It’d given me a sense of security knowing he was watching over me, one I hadn’t felt in so long, but more than anything it had made me feel loved for the first time since my brother died. My eyes teared up with the memory of the last time I’d laid eyes on Ike before he’d crossed over. We’d been in this bed, both of us aching with the hurt of the inevitable goodbye, unable to touch. I’d fallen asleep and when I’d woken up...he was gone.
When my teary gaze reached him, he was seated in the green pleather chair he’d sat in so many nights waiting for me to wake. The neon motel sign outside illuminated the room in red, casting a seductive ambiance. Half of Ike’s face and body were cast in shadow, only offering a silhouette, the other half was bathed in the warm lighting, intensifying the lust pooled in his stare. He was dressed in gray slacks and a black button up shirt that showcased his broad shoulders. I’d never seen him dressed up, except for photos his mother had shown me of him in his military dress blues and prom pictures. Something about the attire gave him a rougher, edgier look. He looked different…like a man. He’d looked like a man before, in his Army fatigues, but dressed like this he looked older. Gone was the All-American young man Ike had been, the one who always said yes ma’am and helped old ladies carry their groceries in their house. Before me stood a finished product—the man he would have become had he lived.
Looking down, I discovered my shredded jeans and tank had been replaced with a black fitted dress that hugged my curves. “I see you picked out my outfit, too.” I didn’t need to see myself in a mirror to know the dress looked amazing on me; I felt beautiful in the dress. My hair was loosely braided to the side, twisted over my shoulder.
Standing, he walked to a small bar cart in the corner and poured two drinks. “I figured providing your wardrobe was the least I could do, since I did ambush you with this date.”
I cleared the emotion from my throat. “This wasn’t what I expected,” I admitted.
As he turned, a whiskey-filled glass in each hand, the corners of his mouth lifted in an understanding smile. “I guess I’m just sentimental. This is where I saw you naked for the first time,” he said, managing to keep a straight face as he held out a glass for me.
I smiled. He never would let me forget about that. His eyes never left mine as he raised his glass in toast before taking a sip. Mirroring him, I kept my gaze locked on his as I took my drink in one gulp. The whiskey was full of character, the smoothest I’d ever tasted, filling my palate. The warmth hit my belly, instantly flushing my cheeks with heat.
Looking at my glass, I admitted, “That was the best whiskey I’ve ever had.”
He didn’t respond as he tipped his glass back again, finishing his own drink. Taking my glass, he walked back to the cart and sat them down.
My pulse quickened the longer we were in the motel room. I couldn’t deny, this version of Ike excited me, but it also made me nervous. I hadn’t seen this side of him, and I had no idea what he would do next.
The quiet between us felt long and my nerves urged me to speak. “Is that why you brought me here?” I asked, a note of humor in my tone. “To reminisce about the first time you saw my breasts?”
His smile fell as he looked around the room. “No. I brought you here for a different reason.”
“What reason is that?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Do you remember the night Anna picked you up from here to go to the dance?”
Did I remember it? It was scorched in my memory. “I do.”
“That was the night I realized I was in love with you.” My heart fluttered—I’d never get tired of hearing him tell me he loved me. My fingers itched, aching to touch him. I craved the feeling of his hands on me. I was desperate to explore this unknown part of Ike. I stepped toward him, but he shot a hand up, halting me. “You asked me a question that night, before you left. Do you remember what you asked me?”
The tears I’d managed to push away resurfaced. “I asked you if you could...would you dance with me?”
“What did I tell you?”
A warm tear slid down my cheek as I repeated his words, “Every fucking song.”
Damn, I wanted this man. That night had been excruciating. I’d told myself over and over not to get attached to Ike—I’d known he was leaving—but it was no use, I couldn’t fight it. No matter how hard I’d tried, I couldn’t not love Ike McDermott.
His jaw ticked at my answer as heat flared in his eyes. When I’d met Ike when I was alive, he had been gentle with me—the way he spoke, how he’d handled my spirited personality. Since I’d arrived on this side, he hadn’t been any different, letting me have the room to choose what did or didn’t happen between us.
This moment was something else entirely.
Something in him had transformed. His gaze held no hesitation, just raw unrestrained desire, and I knew tonight would be nothing like the slow, playful love making of our night on the cliff.
The air between us sizzled the way it energizes when lightning is about to strike and you can feel the current rush along your skin. An invisible force, like a firm hand finding my lower back, urged me forward, causing my body to bow toward him, seeking the missing half of its whole. There was no question: Ike McDermott was my soulmate.
He moved to the dresser where a record player sat. Placing the needle on the vinyl, the record crackled and popped.
“Close your eyes, Charlotte.”
I didn’t want to.
I never wanted to stop seeing the way Ike was looking at me in that moment. The heat of his stare blazed my senses, and I was afraid if I broke it, it would disappear.
“Charlotte,” he said again, his voice deepening. “Close your eyes.”
My body felt as if it might explode with need as I obeyed.
Ike moved behind me as the sounds of Otis Redding’s I’ve Been Loving You Too Long filled the room. Molding his body to mine, his hands on my hips, he moved me to sway with him. The song was slow and intense, the words of a man confessing his undying love weaving their way into my heart, vibrating inside of me. The warmth of Ike’s cheek as it touched my face sent shivers splintering through every nerve in my body. I relaxed into him, giving him my weight, which he took without missing a beat. One hand was wrapped around me, holding me to him, the other was pressed firmly against me as he ran it over my curves. Gently, he nudged me forward and unzipped the back of my dress, letting his knuckle graze my spine as the fabric parted. Turning me to face him, he stepped back and slid his hands in his pockets. His eyes flicked to my body, then back to me. The look said, Off. Now. Heat flushed my face. I had never seen this side of Ike and it was definitely affecting me. Shrugging my shoulders in, the straps of the dress slid off and the garment slipped down my body. I was wearing a black strapless bra and matching lace panties—nothing else. Not even shoes. Ike began to unbutton his shirt, but I took his hands, unable to stop myself. I wanted to undress this beautiful man; unwrap him like the gift that he was. Taking over, I undid each button before sliding my hands inside his shirt to push it off.
Otis’s gritty voice drifted across the room, the melody slow but somehow intense, urging me to do more, to feel more of the man in front of me. Ike took my arms and wrapped them around his neck, then pulled my body in to his. We began to sway again as he pressed his forehead to mine.
“What are you thinking right now?” I asked him.
His voice was almost melancholy when he answered, “About how the sun dies every night so the moon can bloom.”
I pulled back to meet his gaze, searching for something that might help me understand what was going on inside of him.
“You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you?” he asked, before I could respond.
I nodded, suddenly feeling sad. “I do,” I answered. “Ike, is—”
“Shh,” he shushed me as he held me closer. “This is all I’ve wanted,” he whispered.
Slowly, the remaining articles of clothing we were wearing disappeared. The music stopped and both of us were bare.
No music.
We kept dancing.
When he kissed me, our dance changed, the rhythm took on a new beat. We were making our own song.
Ike was tempered with me, he went slow, but he was also possessive. On the cliff, everything had been sweet and a little clumsy as we learned the geography of each other. This time, there was nothing sweet about the way he moved against me, as if he had claimed me and was branding my soul for all to see.
Nothing had ever felt so exquisite. He was on top of me, his hand gripping the back of my head, my hair tangled in his fingers as his body tensed above me. I held on to him, held him to me, my legs wrapped around his waist as my tears wet his shoulder.
“Charlotte,” he groaned deeply before he stilled. After a moment, he squeezed me tightly. Then he raised himself up and met my gaze. His expression was somewhere between pleasure and torture. “You’re crying?” he asked perplexed.
I let out a husky laugh. “They’re good tears,” I promised.
An odd flicker came across his gaze as he opened his mouth, as if he were about to say something, but he stopped himself. Then, he rolled to his side, pulling me with him so that we were facing one another.
“Thank you for that, Charlotte. You have no idea what it means to me,” he said, his voice deep. Then he closed his eyes.
Something was there, just beneath the surface, lurking in his mind, but he was keeping it to himself. He drifted off to sleep, and after a few hours, I decided to go for a walk and let Ike have his quiet time. Maybe I’d go check on Grams and return with breakfast, reminding myself to give him a hard time for not even buying me dinner before he got me in bed. I knew he’d laugh at that. I manifested an outfit and dressed, letting out a long breath as I stepped out of the motel room. It had been an amazing night. Maybe I was finally finding peace on this side.
I couldn’t change the way things had turned out for me. I died, plain and simple; it was time to let it go. I had to stop worrying about things that were out of my control. I had to have faith George would be okay, and maybe he would find a way to help Click. I doubted that, but I knew he’d at least try. Ultimately, I needed to find comfort in knowing that no matter what, I would see him again. He would join us here on this side one day, and until then I was with my brother and Grams. As I walked I began to feel lighter, the weight of my death that I’d been carrying falling away with every step.
I sensed a presence to my left, and when I turned to see who it was I found the little boy looking up at me. I tilted my head as I studied him; maybe he was like Click in a way—he’d figured out how to cross over, only now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do. Did he keep appearing to me because he wanted my help? My mind raced in all directions. What if my ability to help souls cross over had evolved when I died, and now I was meant to help the lost souls on this side? Could that be? No matter how close to peace I found myself, the immense guilt I carried for not being able to free Click would always be with me to some extent. She was the only soul I’d failed to help.
On my worst days, when the burden of helping the dead had beaten my soul to pulp, the one thing that kept me going was knowing one day I would be at peace; that once I’d crossed over myself, I’d be finished helping the dead. But now that I was here, I was beginning to understand that view was shortsighted. Maybe my ability wasn’t actually about the dead; rather, it was more about simply helping those who are lost. The thought didn’t exactly thrill me, but if I couldn’t help Click...maybe I could help this child.
“My name is Charlotte,” I said.
He stared blankly at me like he always did.
“Do you like pancakes?” I asked. “I was about to head to my Grams’s house and get some.”
He scratched at his head absently, giving no indication he understood what I was saying. Then he tucked his tiny hand into his pocket and pulled out the pocket watch I’d given him.
I grinned, “You still have it.”
His tiny brow furrowed as he shook it, then he reached up and held it out to me. Taking it from him, I opened it and realized it wasn’t ticking.
“Just needs to be wound,” I told him as I twisted the tiny knob. When it started ticking again, I handed it back to him. He inspected it before grinning up at me.
I was stunned. It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile or show any emotion. “You have a very nice smile,” I told him, somehow captivated by it. His little face made me happy for some reason. I tentatively reached my hand out for him to take, hoping I wouldn’t scare him off, but he disappeared. What in the world was going on with this kid? I decided the next time I saw him I would make ice cream appear. If my own charms couldn’t win him over, I’d bribe him. He’d have to like ice cream. I shook my head, frustrated. Looking up at the sky, I asked, “Can’t a girl just rest in peace?”
I’d just began imagining Grams’s house, when someone suddenly morphed in front of me.
“Motherf—” I snapped my mouth shut, cutting off the curse when I recognized who it was. My eyes almost bulged out of my head in shock. “Mrs. Mercer?” I gasped.
Her tiny mouth lifted into a grin. “Charlotte?” she asked in surprise, then beamed. Before I knew it, we were embracing. I welcomed the familiarity of her hug, but it was a bit awkward on my part. My mind hadn’t caught up with what my eyes were seeing.
“You’re dead?” I asked with disbelief, then immediately felt stupid for the question. Obviously she was, or she wouldn’t be on the other side. I adored this woman that had become a surrogate mother to me, but seeing her was bittersweet.
“Pneumonia,” she confirmed. “I didn’t suffer, dear,” she added quickly, patting my hand reassuringly when she caught my grimace.
Tears sprang from my eyes, and I quickly swiped them away. “Would it be weird if I said I was sad that you’ve passed away, but that it’s so good to see your face?”
She took my hands and held them, her eyes tearing, too. “No, it wouldn’t, sweetie. Though, I had hoped you’d pull through. Fred wanted to make the trip to see you, but I was just too sick.” Her eyes drifted away. “I know he must’ve been devastated to hear you didn’t make it.”
I furrowed my brow. “Make it? Pull through?” What was she talking about?
“Well I was a little out of it the last few days, but you were on life support last I’d heard. They’d done surgery. I feel awful we couldn’t make it up to see you.”
I blinked a few times, her words rattling around in my brain. “I was in a coma?”
She nodded. “You poor dear. Fred said you seemed not quite yourself the last time he saw you at the restaurant.”
“But when you passed, I was still on life support?”
“I believe so, dear.”
Mrs. Mercer filled me in on her last few days, but I barely registered her words. My mind was reeling from what she’d said. Just then, the motel door opened and Ike rushed out. He stopped short when he saw me standing with Mrs. Mercer. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open wordlessly. He looked as stunned as I felt.
I swallowed dryly as the full ramifications of what I’d just learned hit me. I might still be alive. How could I tell Ike we might have to part ways again?